The hood turned so that the creature looked to the north.
“Yes, I know. They still follow us. Pay them no mind unless they try to enter the cloud cover. Then we shall deal with them.”
Cadrio’s pet dragons flew far behind, no doubt at the general’s request. Valkyn would let them follow so long as they did not interfere. For now, he had Norwych to consider.
The city lay on an island near the opening of the New Sea. Norwych had much in common with Gwynned and, in fact, had been settled by Ergothians just after the First Cataclysm. Not quite as large as the Northern Ergothian seaport, it still remained a viable target with which to test Castle Atriun.
That he felt nothing for those who might die did not make Valkyn evil in his own eyes. Few among those alive did he consider as more than peripheral existences. His brother he had cared for even if Krynos’s tendencies for violence had seemed a wasteful use of energy. What mattered to the mage was his work. Norwych would open up new doors for that.
“Keep a steady course,” he instructed unnecessarily. The shadow servant could do nothing but obey his directives.
Valkyn left the tower, descending finally into the depths of Castle Atriun. A few gargoyles on sentry duty bowed their heads as he passed, their wings wrapped around them in deference and fear. He ignored them as he ignored the very air he breathed. With each step, anticipation built, just as it always did when he had work of a delicate nature to perform.
One of the shadow servants greeted Valkyn at the door to his innermost sanctum. The hooded creature shifted uneasily, then opened the door for him. A blaze of light shot forth into the darkened corridor, briefly forcing Valkyn to wait for his eyes to adjust. From within the chamber came a muffled groan.
Valkyn clasped his hands together, eagerness rising. “Now, shall we begin?”
Chapter 6
The Gathering
Come meet me at the inn where I now stay.
That was all Tyros’s note had said, which did not please Captain Bakal at all. He still had nightmares about the griffon and found himself checking every darkened alley. Of the kender rumor he had discovered nothing, which further soured his mood. He hoped Tyros had a good reason for summoning him.
He entered the inn and walked past the owner without greeting. The officer threw back the hood of his cloak and marched up the steps, quietly cursing the man below for giving Tyros the farthest room. With all he had been through, Bakal did not need to be climbing steps.
At last reaching the mage’s door, the captain nearly touched the handle, then recalled Tyros’s warning about spells. Bakal knocked instead on the wall next to the door, at the same time calling, “Boy! Mage! Open up!”
The door swung open. What stood before him was not Tyros, but rather a vision of crimson-tressed wonder wearing a very becoming clerical robe.
“There’s no reason to shout,” she reprimanded.
Bakal gritted his teeth and entered. “Girl, after what I’ve been through this last couple days, that’s the best I can do!”
She closed the door behind him, and only then did the captain see Tyros, who sat on the bed. “Good to see you, Captain. You remember Serene, from the tavern?”
“I do.” Bakal had no patience for pleasantries, though. “Now, tell me why you wanted to see me.”
“If you will sit down, I will explain.”
Bakal noticed that there were now two chairs where there had been only one on his last visit. He grabbed the heftier of the two for himself, then brought the other one to the cleric. “My lady?”
“I don’t know if I should even be here,” Serene muttered. “I should be on my way after them by now.…”
The soldier didn’t follow her statement, but Tyros evidently did. He stared at the cleric. “Serene, Captain Bakal may be able to help us, or at least help you.”
“I don’t need help,” she insisted. Nonetheless, the young woman finally sat and told her story to Bakal, who refrained from many obvious questions as he listened. By story’s end, he decided that he believed her for the most part, but she had purposely left out details of some import. Whether Tyros realized that or not, Bakal didn’t know. For the time being, he chose to keep his thoughts to himself.
“An interesting and tragic affair,” the soldier finally commented. “So this General Cadrio is the commander of the invaders. I know that name, mostly from reports in the east during the war.”
“You heard what she said about her wizard?” Tyros interrupted. “Taken like the rest! Don’t you see? That means Leot is probably alive as well!”
“A presumption, boy.” The captain ignored the mage’s look. He had offended far more important people. “But I suppose it has some merit.” He leaned back on the chair. “Suppose you tell me now what it means to me.”
Tyros leaned forward. “Serene has a way to reach the flying citadel.”
The weary black eyes became slits. Perhaps he hadn’t been wasting his time here after all. “I’m listening.”
“I know … someone,” she began very slowly.
Bakal mentally tensed. Again the omissions.
“He has a way for us to get up there-a risky way, but one that should work.”
“And what’s this risky way, girl?”
“You’ll have to see it for yourself, I’m afraid.”
He looked at the mage, who shrugged. “She won’t even tell me much, but I believe her.”
Bakal wondered if the great Tyros had become too enamored by this fiery-haired beauty. The captain cared little to take anyone’s word on faith, even a cleric’s. Still, what other options did he have at the moment? “So what do you want from me, and why should I give it to you, especially considering that you haven’t really said much about your transport?”
Tyros had an answer for that at least. “First, I’ll remind you why you should help, Bakal. Leot aside, think what secrets we could learn if, even damaged as it is, Gwynned could capture the citadel! Add to that, if it can be properly repaired, which Cadrio may be doing even now, it could serve as just as good a weapon for the cause of light as it has for darkness!”
Since he and Tyros had first spoken on the subject, Bakal had toyed with the idea of capturing the citadel, although in reality he knew that it would be better just to destroy the thing. Had the dragons agreed to Tyros’s quest, Bakal would have seen to it that Sunfire and Glisten would send the damned castle plummeting to the ground or into the sea, just as they had its sister ship. If Leot or other prisoners aboard perished, it would be a regrettable consequence. Bakal felt a little guilt and occasionally thought himself no better than Tyros, but he reminded himself that some costs had to be accepted in order to win victory. Even the sacrifice of friends …
“I don’t suppose you’ve got some more dragons, do you?” he asked of Serene.
“No.”
Still no explanation. He disliked that immensely. What could she possibly have in mind? “All right. You’ve made one point at least, Tyros. So what do you want from me? I may not even be able to provide it, you know.”
Tyros seemed unconcerned on the last point. “Serene tells me she can provide transport for as many as sixteen. Counting us and the one who will provide us with the transport, that’s four to start.”
“Meaning you want another twelve. So you want volunteers?”
“Or mercenaries, if need be. I have some money, Bakal.”
“Better be a lot. Still …” He rubbed his chin. A notion formed, one that he quickly decided he had better not yet share with the mage. This would mean some delicate talk with his superiors, and delicacy had never been one of the captain’s strong points. “I’ll see what can be done, but I still want to know about this transportation. I don’t like surprises!”
Tyros eyed Serene, who shook her head. “I can’t. A promise was made, and by my pledge to Branchala, I won’t go back on it!”
Bakal didn’t like that, but he knew better than to press the cleric. “All right. Give me a day or two to arrange things, then I’ll contact Tyros.”